


When Louis Met Harry

by Hannyski



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mushy, When Harry Met Sally AU, sometimes if you want an au badly enough you have to write it yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannyski/pseuds/Hannyski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t like me.” Harry realises after half an hour of silence on Louis’ end. “You don’t know me yet but you don’t like me.”</p><p>“Look, I’m doing a favour for a friend, it’s not really necessary that we bond.”</p><p>“And you don’t think we could be friends?”</p><p>“I don’t see why we would be.” Louis says simply, turning up the radio.</p><p>“Because I’m ravishingly handsome and a scintillating conversationalist, plus, irresistibly charming?” Harry says, and it sounds so close to flirting that Louis’ hands tighten their grip on the wheel.</p><p>* * *</p><p>When Harry Met Sally AU – a story of serendipity, overnight successes, growing apart, falling apart, and coming back together. Also, somebody steals a goose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first time we met, we hated each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on the public personas of celebrities. The plotline is loosely (I say loosely, some parts of the dialogue are completely lifted) based on When Harry Met Sally but obviously the gender thing meant that some tweaking had to take place. All copyrights belong to their respective owners bla bla Fair Use policy bla nonprofit bla bla please don't ever show this to anyone who's in it.

The first time Louis Tomlinson meets Harry Styles, it’s because he’s pushing Louis’s friend against his car door, kissing her deeply with an enthusiasm that wouldn’t look out of place on a six year old being given a birthday present.

“Err, Tash?” Louis winds down the window, not bothering to mask his distaste at the public display of affection. Tash pushes Harry away with a smile, tugging him backwards. Louis observes the way Harry walks slightly pigeon toed and smirks to himself. Silly kid. “Are we off?”

“Yeah, thanks again for this Lou, trains are so expensive and unreliable and Harry can’t miss his flight.” Tash garbles quickly, opening the door and ushering Harry in, as though Louis is going to drive off without him. “You remember Harry, don’t you?”

“No. Charmed,” Louis forces a smile as the long-legged boy fixes earnest green eyes his direction.

“Hi,” Harry says, offering a minute smile before turning a full watted grin in the direction of Tash. “Seeya later babe, I love you!” he kisses her once more, leaning out of the window. Louis shifts the car into gear, startling the pair.

“Sorry.” He smirks at Harry, insincerity all over his features.

“That’s okay.” Harry puts his seatbelt on, throws his bag into the backseat and flips the car’s visor down, inspecting his fringe in the mirror as they pull off. “So, thanks for this.”

“No problem. I had to make the journey either way.” Louis replies, shrugging.

“What brings you to London? That’s definitely not a southern accent.” Harry enquires, snapping the visor shut with a satisfied smile at himself.

“Just staying with my uncle for the summer, he’s got me an internship.” Louis explains. “Yourself? Where are you going?”

“Gonna be a holiday rep on a cruise ship. Beats the dullness of Holmes Chapel over the summer.” Harry smiles.

“Where is _that?_ ” Louis asks, curious despite himself.

“Cheshire.”

“Poor you.”

“So, Louis, tell me the story of your life.” Harry settles into his seat and turns eagerly to Louis.

“What?”

“Well, we’re gonna be in this car for a long time, and though I’d love to listen to whatever charming indie bands that third year journalism students are into, I’d rather hear about you.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell.” Louis begins. “That’s why I’m going to London.”

“For the internship?”

“For the atmosphere. And the internship as well. London’s so exciting, y’know? A world away from the Uni bubble.”

“Well, good for you. I’ll look out for your articles.”

“And you?”

“Well, I still have another year of uni to go.”

“What do you even study? I mean, besides the anatomy of the student body.” Louis enquired, eyes narrowing as they reached the motorway. Harry was infamous for sleeping around and frankly, he was surprised that Tash had managed to pin him down for a whole semester.

“Ha. Er, biochemistry.”

“Woah.” Louis let out a low breath, feeling slightly guilty for underestimating the younger boy.

“Yeah.”

“So what does that lead to? And what on earth are you doing on a cruise ship?”

“I want to be a singer.” Louis snorts at this and Harry laughs along good-naturedly. “Yeah, exactly, not the easiest business to break into. So I thought I’d get a fall back.”

“That’s not very optimistic of you.” Louis pointed out, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, well, I’m just keeping my options open.”

“Admirable.”

“You got a girlfriend, Louis?” Harry asks randomly.

“Not at the moment.”

“Boyfriend…?” Harry asks slowly, regarding him out of the corner of his eye for a reaction.

“Not at the moment.”

Harry looks satisfied, allowing a small “hmmm” to escape his lips.

Louis turns the radio on after this, and it becomes the filler for the conversation that has stopped rather abruptly.

“You don’t like me.” Harry realises after half an hour of silence on Louis’ end. “You don’t know me yet but you don’t like me.”

“Look, I’m doing a favour for a friend, it’s not really necessary that we bond.”

“And you don’t think we could be friends?”

“I don’t see why we would be.” Louis says simply, turning up the radio.

“Because I’m ravishingly handsome and a scintillating conversationalist, plus, irresistibly charming?” Harry says, and it sounds so close to flirting that Louis’ hands tighten their grip on the wheel slightly.

“Really? I haven’t seen that exemplified of late.” He formulates as his response.

“Give me a chance, I might surprise you.”

“Hm. Doubt it. Shall we stop for food?” Louis changes the subject abruptly, pulling into a service station before Harry has a chance to reply, parking in the first space he sees. Harry has to bound slightly to catch up with him, and continues his incessant need to fill the silence the absence of the radio has created.

“What’s your favourite movie?” he asks when they’re sat down with two coffees, waiting for their orders to arrive.

“Casablanca.” Louis admits, sipping his coffee timidly before adding precisely half a sachet of sugar to it. Harry whistles.

“Old school.” He replies, because apparently everything needs to be commented on in order for the conversation to carry on. “Do you think she should’ve stayed with Humphrey Bogart in the end?”

“Definitely no- wait, you’ve actually seen it?”

“I do things other than shagging on occasion. Mainly Tuesdays.” Louis narrows his eyes before smiling slowly. “To be honest, I think Humphrey and the other guy should’ve solved their issues by fucking each other, but, yeah, maybe that wouldn’t have been received so well by a 1940s audience.”

Louis splutters and nearly upends his entire coffee onto his lap.

“Excuse me?” Louis demands.

“Well, it’s a classic erotic triangle, isn’t it? They both focused their attentions on Ingrid, when really they just needed to have a good session behind the bar and resolve their issues. God, so much sexual tension.” Harry’s explanation is interrupted by the food arriving. Louis begins picking his meal apart daintily until it is arranged by colours, and Harry watches with amusement. After a few minutes of chewing on both ends, he picks the conversation back up. “So yeah. That’s my interpretation.”

“I think you were watching it wrong. Or maybe, watching a pornographic parody of it.” Louis eventually responds, spearing a pea onto his fork.

“Can’t you see it? Humphrey’s character hated the other guy because of Ingrid, but he let him take her away and do some political shit… I kind of lost interest by that point actually. Sorry. But my point still stands. No conflict can’t be solved by a good fuck.”

“You’re so dirty.” Louis chuckles.

“You like it.” Harry retorts. They exchange a heated glance, before Harry adds. “You know, you’re quite fit when you smile. Tash never said you were fit.”

“Maybe she doesn’t think I’m fit.” Louis replies awkwardly, tousling his hair and forcing himself to frown at Harry.

“I don’t think anyone could see you smile and not think you’re gorgeous, Louis. It’s just a fact.”

Louis blinks, taken aback. “…Tash is one of my friends.” He feels the need to point out.

“So?” Harry seems genuinely confused.

“So you’re in a relationship with her!” Louis picks his next works carefully. “Are you… flirting with me?!” He demands, pushing his plate away and standing up.

“Well I didn’t spout all that shit about erotic triangles for Humphrey’s benefit. You and I are clearly using Tash as the catalyst for our sexual tension.”

“I cannot believe you just said that! I should just leave you here and you can hitch hike to your shitty boat.”

“I’m getting a plane.” Harry corrects.

“What?” Louis asks, thrown by the response.

“I’m getting a plane and then onto a boat.”

“I don’t even care!”

“Okay, I take it back.”

“What?”

“I take it back. You’re not fit, and your eyes don’t sparkle like the Mediterranean sea.” Harry says cheekily, swigging the dregs of his coffee and cramming the remains of his Panini into his mouth before following Louis out of the service station and back to the car.

“So, not gay?” He probes, appearing in front of Louis and leaning on the door, effectively blocking him.

“Not interested.” Louis rewords. “You’re Tash’s boyfriend, and I’m Tash’s friend, and that’s how it’s gonna be for the next couple of hours. Maybe we can be friends afterwards, your terrible interpretations of movies aside.”

“Okay. Friends.” Harry agrees, opening the car door for Louis with a meek bow. They’re back on the motorway before he adds. “Except, now, we can’t be friends.”

Louis laughs shortly.

“And why is that?”

“Because, now, the sex thing is there.”

“Okay, I’ll humour you. What ‘sex thing’?”

“Now, you know I want to have sex with you, and whenever you’ll see me, you’ll think ‘he wants to fuck me’ and if I don’t come on to you, you’ll be wondering why I suddenly don’t want to fuck you, and if I do come onto you and you reject me again I’ll start to resent you because you’re impervious to my charms and Tash won’t know why I can’t stand to be in the same room as you and it’ll all be a mess.”

“That’s stupid. If everyone thought like that, nobody would ever let the ‘sex thing’, as you so eloquently put it, get out there.”

“It’s how girls think. It’s how I think.” Harry shrugs.

“I guess we won’t be friends then.”

“I guess so. Shame.”

“Yeah, shame. You could’ve been a good business contact if I ever made it as a singer and you made it as a journalist.”

“Shame.” Louis repeats, and for the briefest of seconds he actually means it.

When Louis drops Harry off at Heathrow, they stare at each other for a few seconds.

“Thanks again for the ride.” Harry says sincerely.

“Yeah, it was… interesting.” Louis offers his hand and Harry shakes it before reaching for the door handle. “Have a nice life.” Louis adds.

“You too. Good luck with the journalism.”

“Good luck with the singing slash biomedicine.”

“Biochemistry. And thank you.”

Harry’s gone then, with a last cheeky grin and a waggle of the fingers, disappeared into the departures lounge. Louis pulls off, shaking his head and laughing.

By the time he sees Tash at graduation three weeks later, Harry’s already out of the picture, the ‘strain of long distance’ proving too much for the young lovers. Louis keeps schtum about the flirting and pretty much forgets Harry ever existed, although sometimes he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror before he’s fully woken up and wonders what colour the Mediterranean sea is at daybreak.


	2. “No, you didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met you didn’t even remember me!”

*** TWO YEARS LATER ***

“Mmm, mmm, stop it, Eleanor, I’m trying to build this tent.” Louis complains, flapping his arms at his girlfriend, who was incessantly tugging the back of his jacket, turning him around every few seconds for a kiss.

“I don’t see why you didn’t bring a pop up tent. This is hopeless! Or, top idea… why don’t you just stay in the VIP area with the rest of the media? With me. And working showers. And proper loos.”

“Because I want the full festival experience, dummy. I can’t write it if I don’t experience it!” Louis reasons, hammering a peg into the ground half-heartedly, as his eyes wander across the muddy field to a lone portaloo, the queue for which was already spanning around 20 people.

“Okay, but when you change your mind, I’ll be over here.” Eleanor grumbles, opening a camping chair and seating herself a good few yards away from Louis, opening a cider and flipping down her sunglasses, uncrossing her long legs so they would tan.

Louis and Eleanor had been dating for a few weeks. She was a fashion columnist at The Times magazine, and Louis had just been offered a temporary role in the music section, possibly leading to a permanent position. This week, he’d been sent to review Leeds Festival – a bit of a trek from London, but Eleanor had decided it’d be their first official holiday together – they were both on the job all weekend, but she was excited nonetheless.

Louis was behind a billowing sheet of material when he heard Eleanor squealing in delight over something. Stilling, he leaned slightly closer to eavesdrop.

“Hiya. Sorrrrrrry. Have you got a spare bottle ope- El?”

“Oh my god, Harry? I haven’t seen you in years! Still the same old Harry! Never did bring anything of value.”

“I resent that accusation. I brought 6 crates of beer, my pretty face and excellent tent building skills.”

“Oh, my boyfriend could definitely use some of those.” Louis rolls his eyes behind the tent.

He was still getting used to the ‘boyfriend’ label Eleanor had been throwing around since their second date. Still, she’s pretty and funny and clever, and Louis is happy. He straightens the tarpaulin over the pole with new resolve, straightening up to admire his (admittedly, slightly wonky) tent, and greet Eleanor’s friend – a tall guy with curly brown hair and big, earnest green – fuck.

It’s the guy he drove to London who hit on him and made it damn near impossible to watch Casablanca for a whole six months without seeing the underlying gay subtext. The guy who broke his friend’s heart. His friend… what was her name again? Shit. Shittyshittyshitfuck.

“Louis, this is one of my friends from a couple of summers ago! He was singing on a cruise ship. Are you still doing that, Harry?”

“Yeah. Well minus the ship part, the stages are a lot less waterlogged now. I’m actually singing here tomorrow. It’s one of the smaller stages and it’s at like 12pm before anyone’ll even have got out of bed, but it’s a start, right?”

“And you’re slumming it in the campsite for what reason exactly?”

“All part of the festival experience.”

“That’s amazing.” Eleanor sighs, and Louis snorts, disguising it as a cough. “Louis said the same, didn’t you, babe? Louis is actually writing a piece on this festival for The Times.”

For the first time, Harry locks eyes with Louis, staring at his face for a whole five seconds before responding. Louis swears he can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, confusion clouding those bright green eyes before a hint of recognition crawls in.

“That’s great! Well, we’ll enjoy slumming it together. I’ll be over there if you want to ask me any questions, y’know, get the low down on the high life.” Harry winks and Louis stares, momentarily disgusted before smoothing his face into a smile.

“Will do. Did you say you needed a bottle opener? We’ve got spares here.” Louis tossed him one and then crawled into his tent under the guise of checking structural integrity.

“Great to see you again, El. Enjoy the festival! And lovely to meet you, Louis.” Harry says cheerily, hugging Eleanor before disappearing.

“Thank god.” Louis sighs, making a grab for the crate of cider and pulling a bottle out, relief crossing his face.

“What?” Eleanor asks, confused.

“He couldn’t remember me. Two years ago, I drove him to London to get on that cruise ship you were talking about and it was the weirdest experience of my life.”

“Why? What happened? Harry’s lovely.”

“He tried to fuck me… in a Costa, in Welcome Break of all places!” Louis mutters, the words sounding hilarious as he spoke them. Eleanor giggles again.

“He what? Sounds like him, I guess… what did you do?!”

“I turned him down! He was going out with one of my uni friends… god, what was her name. I genuinely can’t remember. Oh god, Eleanor, I’m an old man! I can’t even remember her name.”

“Well what happened after that?” Eleanor urges, amusement crossing her face as she swigs her cider.

“I asked if we could just y’know, be friends, and he said something that I haven’t forgotten. That two people can’t be friends if one of them is attracted to the other. I mean, if they put the offer out there and you turn it down… Do you think that’s true?” Louis asks, reaching for Eleanor’s bottle opener and using it to open his cider, taking a swig and eyeing Eleanor curiously.

“No, that’s completely stupid.”

“Well if someone turned you down would you settle for being their friend? Are you still friends with people you’ve turned down?” Louis pushes.

“I… err… I guess not. It kind of fizzles out once they realise that you don’t feel the same way and I suppose we’re all guilty of cutting someone out because it’s too painful, or letting someone else let us go... But if it bothers you that much, I can call some people who gave me their numbers and befriend them.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Now get in this tent, woman. I want to see a bit of mud on your Hunter wellies before the weekend’s out.” Eleanor sighed and crouched down to give Louis a kiss. Suddenly Louis sprang up, nearly destroying the tent in the process.

“Tash!”

“What?” Eleanor groans, startled.

“That was her name. Thank fuck. I wonder what she’s doing now. I wish I hadn’t deleted Facebook.”

“Yeah, same. Now I have to put ‘in a relationship’ and nobody can see that it’s with you and they all think I’m making it up.”

“But you’re not, are you?”

“I love you.” Eleanor declares suddenly. Louis blinks, a little taken aback.

“I love _you._ ” he responds almost immediately, and he means it. She goes on tiptoes to give him a long, lingering kiss before pulling away with a smile.

“I’m gonna go find Lani in the VIP area, I know you wanted to go to that Ben Howard secret show so I won’t keep you, especially now I know you won’t have to sleep under the stars. Although, our VIP tent has a skylight. I’m just saying.” She says in a sing-song tone, blinking angelically up at him.

“Eleanor! I’m not going in the VIP area!” Louis says sternly. “Stop trying to lead me astray.”

“Okay, okay. Enjoy slumming.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Louis shoves his things into the tent and hurries into the neighbouring field, where a small crowd has already gathered. He settles onto a conveniently felled log, fervently making notes on the surroundings and the atmosphere. Ben Howard appears from nowhere and starts singing with a guitar, standing in the middle of the crowd as though he’s just a busker. Everyone falls silent and pulls out their phones to record it, and Louis sways, enjoying the atmosphere as he films the performance on his iPad.

“Hey again.” Harry says, looming over Louis and blocking his camera, effectively ruining the video Louis is taking.

“Hiya.” Louis smiles awkwardly, tweaking his hair.

“You went to Uni with me, right?”

“Correct.” Louis gives another pained smile and closes his iPad sadly, storing it in his bag.

“Have you got more attractive?” Harry asks genuinely. “Did we ever… y’know?”

“Oh my god. Stop.” Louis exchanges a horrified glance with the guy sitting next to him on the log, feeling the need to explain. “I drove him from university to London one summer.”

“Do you want to sit together?” The guy asks, disappearing before Louis has a chance to shout ‘no no no a thousand times no’ in his face, and suddenly Harry’s right next to him, smelling of beer and Lynx Chocolate. Louis shifts awkwardly, twisting his quiff in his fingers.

“You were friends with… er…”

“Tash.” Louis butts in instantly, looking at him with disdain and momentarily ignoring the fact that he himself couldn’t remember Tash’s name half an hour ago. “I can’t believe you don’t even remember her name!” He accuses, though there’s a playfulness to his tone.

“Tash, right, of course I remember. Blonde hair, big ti–”

“Yeah. Tash…”

“What’s she doing now?”

“I have no idea.” Louis says honestly, glancing away from Harry for a second. Ben Howard has disappeared in the interim of their conversation, and now a group of Caribbean dancers have taken his place in the middle of the field. He feels like he should be making notes on this for his article, but right now his focus is elsewhere, drawn by the infuriatingly magnetic Harry.

“Are you serious? No idea? You two were really close. I remember. You turned me down because you didn’t want to do me behind her back.”

“You were going out with her!” Louis protests, but he’s starting to smile.

“And was it worth it? You sacrificing the chance to sleep with the magnificent Harry Styles for a girl you don’t even keep in touch with?”

“It might be hard for you to understand, but it was hardly a sacrifice.”

“Fair enough.” Harry shrugs, offering Louis a beer. Louis takes it glumly, wishing he hadn’t put his iPad away so he had a better reason to ignore Harry.

“So the journalism thing worked out then? You’re working at The Times? That’s really good.”

“Thank you. I worked hard, y’know. How did the biomedicine go? Get any actual work done in third year, or were there more irresistible freshers for you to corrupt?”

“Biochemistry. And it didn’t really ‘go’, as such. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You dropped out?”

“No, I finished last year, I got a 2:1.”

“That’s great!” Louis says genuinely.

“But whatever, y’know. This is what I want, right here.” Harry waves an arm, and Louis assumes he means music, not random curvaceous middle-aged Caribbean women. “The backup plan still works if I don’t. And you. You got your plan A! You’re a journalist and you’re with Eleanor.”

“Yeah, I’m with her.”

“That’s great. How long’ve you been together? A month?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your neck is covered in love bites.” Harry pokes one. “Nobody leaves them unless it’s a new relationship. The whole point of a love bite is to lay claim to someone so nobody else goes after them.”

Louis flinches away, flipping up the collar on his jacket. “Doesn’t seem to stop you.”

“You gonna put a ring on it?”

“What? We’ve been together a month!” Louis exclaims.

“It’s not so crazy. I have.”

“You have what?”

“Put a ring on it.”

“I hope that’s not some sort of metaphor for a piercing because I really don’t think my stomach can handle that right now.”

“No. I’m getting married.”

“You are?” Louis asks, slightly taken aback. “ _You_ are?” Harry nods earnestly.

“To who?!”

“A girl. A model, actually. Her name’s Cara. She’s delightful.” Harry smiles when he says her name, smiles so big it looks like his face is about to crack.

“You’re getting _married._ ” Louis repeats.

“Indeed. Note how I am hitting on you significantly less.”

“But you’re so young! What about your career?”

“It’s going pretty swimmingly. Being with Cara will only speed the process.”

“So it’s a publicity thing.”

“I love her. Really, I do. When you know, you know. You know?”

“No.” Louis smiles feebly. “But congratulations, all the same.”

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the Caribbean dancers, Louis taking a few notes and videos on his iPad, which he had slowly, politely removed from his bag after the conversation died a death.

“So come have a drink with me?” Harry asks after the dancers disperse and people start leaving, headed back to their tents. “I have this wicked absinthe Cara got given in Venice. It’s not even legal here, and I swear it turns your piss neon.” He sees Louis hesitate. “As friends, yeah?”

“You said we couldn’t be friends.” Louis reminds him. “Also, that sounds disgusting.”

“Why can’t we be friends?” Harry seems put out.

“Because of the sex thing.”

“The… oh! I’m adding an appendix to the rule. Two people who experience attraction to each other can be friends if they are both in committed relationships with people they care about and do not wish to hurt. Pressure’s off.”

“Oh really.”

“Although, then the people they’re in a relationship with start to get suspicious, all ‘didn’t you used to have a thing for them? Why are you spending so much time with them? What do they give you that I don’t? Are you cheating on me?’ and that dooms your relationship _and_ your friendship.”

“Really.” Louis repeats, starting to walk back to the campsite, Harry hot on his heels.

“So we can’t be friends, so where does that leave us.”

“At goodbye.” Louis shrugs. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Thanks for the bottle opener.”

“Keep it. I’m gonna go find El in the VIP area.”

“It was nice to see you.” Harry says forlornly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Glad you’re doing well.”

“You too.”

“Good luck with Carla.”

“Cara.”

“That too.”

“Bye, Louis.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Come to my show, tomorrow?” Harry asks. “It’d mean a lot.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Harry smiles at this, placated, and disappears into the trees.

Louis narrows his eyes.

“What are the odds.” He mutters to himself, wandering in the direction of the giant white teepees.

The next day, it hits 12pm and he’s sitting in a green room, waiting to interview Rita Ora. A guilty fleeting thought crosses Louis’s mind that maybe he should be somewhere else, but he gives Eleanor’s hip a squeeze and sighs. When Rita finally deigns to show up, he asks for her top festival picks. She smiles and says she’s really sorry she was late for the interview, that she just had to catch a new upcoming artist on one of the smallest stages. Apparently, his name is Harry, and he’s absolutely fantastic.

Louis smiles grimly and takes notes, notes, and more notes.


	3. “I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends.”

** SIX MONTHS LATER **

“So I looked in her bag, and it was just full of receipts from Nando’s. Imagine. She went there without me.” Niall grumbles, angrily twisting a spare coaster round his fingers.

“Niall. That is not a reason to stop seeing someone.” Liam groans.

“No, the worst part is, the worst part is, they were all for two! Two burgers, two bottomless drinks, two fries. But only one frozen yoghurt.”

“She was cheating on you?!” Liam demands.

“I was her cheatee! She was cheating on someone, with me! Under my own roof!”

“I don’t think Nando’s can be classed as your roof, Niall.”

“That’s it. I have had enough. I’m done with women forever. Girls are poison. No wonder Liam’s gay. I might join him. And as for you Lou, you’re so lucky to have found the only sane one in the bunch.” The pair turn to Louis, who has been sitting silently, sipping his beer and watching the scene unfold.

“Actually, I broke up with Eleanor last week.” Louis blurts. They’re sitting in a pub in central London, reasonably empty for a Friday afternoon. Suddenly, full attention falls on him.

“What? Why? You were so happy, I thought you were gonna ask her to move in with you!”

“Truth is, I kind of saw it coming. We weren’t really connecting.”

“You weren’t… connecting?” Niall repeats, waggling his eyebrows.

“Not like that! Well, a bit like that. I just think… she just thinks… we’re very different people. And she kept moving her things into my drawers. There are only so many dresses you can rifle through looking for a tshirt before you start to wonder why you’re not living together. And so I ask her to move in, and she was all ‘where will I put my clothes, I don’t think you’re emotionally ready, oh and by the way I’m going to America for a year to do an internship at Vogue.’”

“Shit.” Niall comments.

“So she’s gone? Just like that?”

“Saw her onto the plane myself two days ago.”

“And you’re broken up?”

“Long distance is too much effort.”

“You don’t seem too sad about it.”

“You know how many women’s t-shirts I accidentally put on this morning? None.” Louis drains his drink. “Another round?”

“Then you’re ready. Time to go on the pull. Tonight, at the fundraiser ball. Think of all the models. Think of all the vulnerable interns and work experience girls!”

“You’re sick. Besides, I think I might want to maybe… try… guys for a bit.”

Niall and Liam pause for a moment, the words hanging in the air. They’ve never been a hundred percent certain on Louis’s sexuality. Niall speaks first, rewording his original ploy.

“Well, think of all the vulnerable interns and work experience boys!”

“You are terrible. C’mon, I’m buying.”

Louis often thinks how lucky he is to have co-workers like Niall and Liam, and they begin to plan their night out, giving Louis new get-over-Eleanor-for-good incentive.

· * *

Somehow, Louis finds himself suited and booted and clutching his third champagne flute, talking to the Radio 1 Breakfast host Nick Grimshaw of all people.

Although the man usually grates on him, the influence of alcohol and bad judgement have lead Louis to be rather taken with him. In fact, Louis might be persuaded to make a move after his next drink. Nick seems equally interested, until he leans in and whispers:

“Oh my god. I think Harry Styles is staring at you. Oh my god. He is so cute.”

“Harry Styles?” Louis splutters. “He’s here? Wait, you know him?”

“Who doesn’t know him? He just won a MOBO, for god’s sake. Oh Christ. Do I look okay? Why is he staring at you like that?”

“I know him.” Louis isn’t going to deny that he’s noticed Harry’s name in the papers here and there, toting him an ‘up and coming indie artist’ or ‘the next big thing’ but Louis thought he was just hyperaware of Harry’s name. He didn’t realise Harry had already upped and came into being a big thing.

“You _know_ him?”

“I drove him to London once. But he never remembers me.”

“Can you introduce me? Oh my god, no, I can’t talk to him. He’s so cute.”

“More like obnoxious.”

“Oh god. I’m going to the bathroom to throw up and maybe put some more gel in my hair if time allows. Christ. Hold on, is that Frank Ocean? Hey! Fraaaank,”

“Wait, Nick-“ Nick is gone, and Harry is getting closer, hugging and kissing a few people here and there. He looks inexplicably older, more coiffed, his hair in a quiff combed away from his face. He’s talking intensely to a tall, dark, annoyed looking (yet incredibly handsome) man, who nods and looks over at Louis, smiling lazily before vanishing.

“Louis Tomlinson!” Harry calls cheerfully, and a group of nearby people look over jealously, wondering what some nobody-columnist from a supplement paper has to do with The Harry Styles.

“Harry. Congratulations on the MOBO!”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Harry asks, eyes lighting up, shaking Louis’s hand cheerily.

“No, Grimmy just- he’s very taken with you.”

“Ooh. Really? He’s cute. How are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?” There’s a moment of awkwardness. “Are you here with Cara?”

“No, I’m with my friend Zayn, he’s a model too, he’s around here somewhere… god knows where. How’s Eleanor?”

“She’s good. I hear she’s good… yeah.”

“You’re not with her anymore?”

“We broke up last week.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I feel great actually. So how are you? How are wedding plans?”

“We split up too.” Harry shrugs.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry.” Louis says, and he means it. Harry had seemed genuinely taken with Cara last time he saw him – but he supposed the same was true for himself and Eleanor.

“Fancy that. Drink?”

Louis hesitates, looking at his full glass warily.

“Another drink after that one, then? Come on. Please. Humour me.” Harry pleads.

“Okay. But no funny business.”

“Scout’s honour.”

Harry leads Louis out of the hall (grabbing a bottle of champagne from a bucket on the way out) and up some stairs, onto the roof of the building which looks out over the Thames, the twinkling lights of Soho spread beneath them like a neon blanket.

“I find it hard to believe you were ever a scout,” Louis starts, just as Harry says “so what happened with El?”

They both laugh a little awkwardly before Louis starts speaking again.

“We wanted the same things, we worked at the same building, we listened to the same music, watched the same shows. We’re very similar, she was like the female version of me. And then I dunno, something shifted. She left.”

“She left?”

“She said I wasn’t emotionally ready for our relationship to progress, and then she packed her bags and went to America.”

“Ouch. That’s rough.” Harry says. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m about to pop the cork on this champagne, and thought it may be construed as my way of celebrating your newfound singleness, it is in fact, the fastest way to your next drink.”

“Okay.” Louis finishes the last dregs of his current drink and looks at Harry, narrowing his eyes. “So what happened with Cara?”

“She, er, was cheating on me. With Rita Ora.”

“Christ! I was interviewing her the other month and she said how good you were.”

“I introduced them.”

“Wow. Shit.”

Harry takes a swig out of the bottle.

“So I think I owe you an apology.” He manages eventually. “What’s the statute of limitations on saying sorry for being a tosser?”

“I think you’re good. If you grovel and refill my glass.” Louis waves his empty flute and Harry obliges. “What for?”

“Bothering you. Forgetting you. Dragging you onto a roof when you could be talking to Nick Grimshaw. Trying to shag you every time I see you… also, sounding like Hugh Grant when I make an apology.”

“Also, ruining Casablanca.” Louis adds cheerily.

“I think you’ll find I improved Casablanca.”

“Shut up.”

“So, is this gonna be us? Are we friends now?”

“If you’re ready to accept that your theory is wrong.”

“I’m looking at you now, and I don’t have any particular urges to have sex with you, and if you’re okay with that, I’m okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that.”

“Great. So, can I get your phone number?”

“Harry…” Louis counters sternly.

“Just as friends! Friends call each other. And text each other. And y’know, interface more than once a year.”

“Fine.”

“And, on a similar note, would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow? …Just as friends?”

“Just as friends? I’d love to.”

“Finally, my contact in the journalism world is stable.”

“Shut up.”

· * *

A few days later, Louis gets a phone call from a number he doesn’t recognise. Grinning, he answers.

“Hello?”

“I’m sad.” Harry’s voice comes through slightly rattled on the other line.

“Harry! You took your time.”

“I’m saaaaaaaaad. I miss her.”

“Who?”

“Cara. I woke up on her side of the bed this morning. I thought I’d crushed her under my big meaty thighs, then I realised there was no-one to crush. Just cold sheets.”

“Your thighs aren’t meaty.”

“You’ve been looking at my thighs?”

“Would you stop? I’m trying to console you!”

“Do you sleep on her side of the bed?” 

“Cara’s bed?!”

“Eleanor. Do you ever?”

“Yeah. It’s my bed, I sleep in the middle.”

“Well, same. But it feels strange. Empty.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I miss her.”

“I don’t miss Eleanor.” Louis realises aloud, and there’s a silence on the other end of the phone, before a cheery:

“We still on for dinner?”

“How’s Friday?”

“…Date night?” Louis hesitates.

“Since when is Friday date night?” Harry demands, mock-hurt.

“I saw it in a film once.”

“Well then, Thursday?” Harry counters.

“Friday’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll see you Friday.”

They carry on like this for a few months, going for drinks and coffees and dinner, talking and gossiping and growing closer. Oddly, there isn’t the slightest inkling of sexual tension – more like, Louis has found the best friend he could ever have in Harry. His only regret is that they didn’t become friends sooner.

Which doesn’t explain why Louis feels so uncomfortable when a new (male, 25, handsome, Cambridge graduate) intern at work asks him on a date. Or why Louis hides it from Harry until Harry calls him the morning of the date and asks him if he wants to go for drinks.

“Lou-louuu, the Stag has happy hour on Fridays between 6-8! That’s an extra hour of happiness! Two hours masquerading as one! Come!” Harry pleads eagerly by way of greeting.

“Errr…” Louis falters.

“What’s up?”

“Friday’s date night.” he reminds Harry.

“I thought we established that Friday was not date night.”

“No, I mean, I have a date.”

“Oh.” There’s a silence on the other line. “Who is it?” Harry asks eventually, sounding nothing but curious and innocent.

“A guy from work. He’s nice. Handsome. You’d like him. You’d probably like him too much, actually…”

“So bring him to the pub. We can grill him over cocktails.”

“No, we’re going for a proper dinner.”

“Ooh.” Harry sounds put out. “Well, have fun!” He adds.

“You should probably get out there too. It’s been a few months since you broke up with Cara.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready!” Harry protests. “I still think about her all the time. Maybe because I see her all the time on fucking billboards. But I need more time, and more casual sex.”

“You’ve been having casual sex?” Louis asks loudly, cuing an evil glare from the receptionist across the office.

“Only recently. I didn’t want to mention it…” Harry sounds guilty on the other line.

“Why not?”

“Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell me about your date until just now, because I know he must’ve asked you days in advance because you would never accept a date at the last minute. Not without making a pro-con list.”

“Oh my god, that was ONE time and I really needed to look at it objectively! Stop changing the subject.”

“I’ve been seeing a few people, yeah. All strictly inebriated, quick, mutually beneficial bangs. You know the type.”

“Not really.” Louis says, his voice a little clipped.

“It’s fine. Y’know, I think you’re right. Maybe I will try and date someone properly.”

“Y’know, I have just the person in mind.” Louis smirks. “Leave it to me.”

“Lou-“ Harry starts to protest, but Louis has already hung up, dialling Liam’s number.

“Liam, babeeeeee. What are you doing this weekend?”


	4. "We were friends for a long time." Part 1

Saturday night rolls around, Louis’s Friday date is a dud and Harry is lying on Zayn’s floor with an Xbox controller in hand, mindlessly shooting at aliens on Halo, half his attention drawn to Zayn, who is sitting beside him with arms folded.

“If he’s so great, and so up for cock, why are you not fucking him?” Zayn asks, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I don’t see why I have to talk to some dweeby guy just so you can talk to his dweeby friend when you could just go straight for the dweeb himself and save yourself the embarrassment and a few quid in cab fares.”

“It’s not like that with him. He’s like my best friend. It’d be like dating you.”

“Please. You wish you were able to date me,”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean I can't look at you like that. But. Yes, objectively, Louis is gorgeous, and I know you’d like him, and it’s just weird if I don’t bring a friend if he brings a friend so please, please, _please_ will you come to the restaurant tonight?”

“Okay. But it better not be Mexican.”

“Yes! Thank you! I promise he’ll be lovely. He’s lovely. Lovely Louis.”

Zayn groans and smacks Harry, turning off the Xbox without saving, much to Harry's anguish.

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed in something that doesn’t have questionable stains on.”

* * *

“I can’t believe I get to meet the famous Harry Styles.” Liam says, feigning elation as Louis hustles him along the quiet street, conscious that they might be late.

“He’s just a normal guy, honestly, he’s so nice. He’s my new best friend, and you’re my old best friend, so please, don’t make fun because he's moderately famous. Just because you work in the financial column doesn’t mean you aren’t suited for him! You like music!”

“I don’t know. I feel weird about this. I haven’t been on a double date since senior school where we went to see High School Musical 3 and I fancied Zac Efron more than the girl I was with. That should’ve been her first warning, to be fair – “

“Great. That’s a great ice breaker. You've already found common ground! Harry _loves_ Zac Efron.”

* * *

“Is he fit?” Zayn asks casually as they lean on the wall outside the restaurant, lighting up a cigarette with long, slender fingers.

“Yeah of course! And he’s so funny and great,”

“So he’s not fit. Nobody talks about their personality if they're actually fit.”

“He’s got great eyes. And a _great_ bum.”

“Hmmmm…” Zayn frowns as Harry takes his cigarette out of his mouth and stomps it, force feeding Zayn a mint.

“And he hates smoking.”

“Fabulous. I foresee a long and lasting relationship.”

“You know, for a vapid model, you can be quite sassy.” Harry remarks, earning him a death stare.

“Is that them?” Zayn squints into the distance, seeing two figures approaching. “Which one is Louis?”

“The shorter one.”

“Ooh. Okay.”

Harry doesn’t know why his stomach flips but assumes he’s just hungry. He lopes over to Louis, giving him a big hug before turning to Liam.

“Hi, I’m Harry!” he smiles, all teeth and dimples.

“I know who you are. Big fan.” Liam says meekly, offering his hand. “I’m Liam.”

“This is Zayn,” Harry says, reaching behind him and tugging Zayn forward. Zayn smiles at Louis and pulls open the door, all brooding eyes and gentlemanly nodding toward Louis, who just looks intimidated.

* * *

They’re seated and Harry starts to look over the menu, slid into a booth beside Zayn with Liam and Louis opposite. They all stare at each other for a while, relieved when the waitress comes over and asks what they want to drink. Harry and Louis order beers, and Zayn and Liam order water, smiling awkwardly at each other when they both add 'still' at the same time.

“Zayn’s a model,” Harry explains. “No alcohol because he’s worried about bloating, aren’t you?”

“I don’t put junk in my body.” Zayn retorts, poking his tongue out at Harry before smiling at Liam. “What about you?”

“I’m training for a charity run next month.”

“Oh really?” Zayn leans in, genuinely interested. Harry and Louis exchange a look of ‘uh oh’. “You know, I was reading in the paper the other day that 25% of the money made at charity fundraisers actually goes into paying off the events organisers?”

“You read that? I _wrote_ that!” Liam admits with genuine excitement.

“No way! Are you serious?”

“Yeah! I work at The Times, with Louis”

“I love the Financial Times. You know, I studied Economics at Wolverhampton University before I got scouted for modelling.”

“Are you serious? I’m from Wolverhampton! How weird.”

“You know, Louis is from Yorkshire, Zayn.” Harry says, giving Zayn a swift 'don't-fuck-this-up' kick to the calf.

“Oh really? Whereabouts?” Zayn says, turning his attention back to Louis guiltily.

“Doncaster,” Louis smiles half-heartedly. “You?”

“Bradford.” Zayn replies.

“Ooh,” Louis says pleasantly. “Never been there.”

“Not the most pleasant of cities,”

“Oh.”

“So you and Louis went to University together?” Liam asks Harry.

“Sort of. We met as he was leaving, and then we met again… and again.” Harry laughs nervously, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. The waitress reappears to take their order and bring their drinks, and the conversation continues along the same vein – Harry or Louis will try and point out a similarity between their counterpart and their friend and it will turn out to be a similarity between their two counterparts. Halfway through dessert, Harry dramatically clutches his eyeball.

“Err. Zayn. I think my contact’s gone into my eye. Can you come to the bathroom and check it with me?”

“You don’t even wear- oh. Okay. Excuse us.” Zayn scoots out of the booth and Harry drags him by the sleeve of his leather jacket into the bathroom. Louis turns to Liam in horror the moment they disappear behind the door.

“You’re supposed to be chatting up Harry! What’s with all this flirting with Zayn?” He demands, spearing a profiterole in anger and shaking it in Liam's face. 

“Er?” Liam raises his eyebrows and shuffles away from Louis. “I’m not flirting. I’m conversing. He is nice though. We’ve got so much in common!”

“Harry’s just got out of a bad breakup with a model! You can’t turn him down for a model!” Louis scolds. “At least not tonight. I'll get you Zayn's number, you can call him later or something.”

Zayn and Harry were having a similar conversation in the bathroom.

“Harry, I have a dilemma.” Zayn announces, respiking his hair with a tin container of gel he retrieved from the depths of his jacket.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Why are you trying to destroy my friend? Are you jealous that I’ve not been paying you enough attention?” Harry jibes, sitting himself on the counter beside the sink and picking up a paper towel, absentmindedly creating a paper aeroplane while waiting for Zayn to respond.

“No, it’s not like that! Liam’s got this electricity about him. He’s so clever.”

“So is Louis!” Harry pipes up defensively, knowing it's futile when Zayn's made up his mind about someone. 

“Harrryyy.” Zayn whines. “Liam’s aaaarrmmss.”

“Fine, fine, do what you like.”

“You don’t want Liam?”

“No, we don’t have much in common. But can you not… make the move in front of Louis? He might be kind of vulnerable.”

“Sure.”

When they return, Louis is settling the bill and Liam’s putting his coat on.

“Shall we get a cab?” Harry asks.

“I think I’ll walk.” Liam shrugs.

“I’ll go with you!” Zayn says suddenly. “It’s dangerous around here.”

“Well…”

“Fine by me,” Harry relents. “Me and Lou’ll wait for change and get a cab.”

“Thank you.” Zayn says softly, bumping Harry’s hip before putting his arm round Liam’s shoulder and asking him where he was headed. Louis chuckles, folding his arms.

“He is so not going home.”

“Not a chance.”

"Dangerous? In South Kensington? Christ, they could've at least made it look like they had a reason to leave together. Suppose they deserve each other." 

“That was a complete failure.” Harry groans, covering his face with his hands to hide the fact he's about to start laughing. 

“Oh no, I think we made our friends very happy." 

"Apparently we’re just destined to be alone. C’mon, let’s go find gay subtext in another Disney film.”

“Ooh, goody. Who needs emotional stability when you have homosexual aristocats.”

* * *

Two weeks later and Liam drags Louis to meet Zayn from work, telling him that “there’ll be hot male models, plus Harry is gonna be there for you to muck about with, plus male models.” Belligerently, Louis obliges, sending Harry a quick “I hear we’re being roped in” text message in hope that Harry won't bail at the last minute to do pop-star stuff.

The venue for London Fashion Week is loud, bustling and completely packed. Weaving through the crowded reception, Liam and Louis look completely out of their depth. Not to mention hopelessly untrendy.

“Hi, we’re guests of Zayn Malik,” Liam announces to the frazzled looking woman behind the desk.

“Sure you are,” she replies. “Can you stop wasting my time please?”

Liam and Louis exchange horrified looks and Harry’s head pops out from behind a door.

“S’alright Lucy, they’re with me,” Harry says, positively twinkling at the girl.

“Ohh. Well go right on through,” she says exasperatedly. They thank her and duck through the door Harry appeared through, relieved that the pandemonium of guests outside wasn’t reflected backstage. Zayn’s eyes light up when he saw Liam and he rushes over, fringed denim jeans half buttoned.

“Hey,” he says, seemingly ignoring Harry and Louis to give Liam a kiss. Harry and Louis sigh and wander off to explore, with a firm “don’t get into any trouble” called after them from Zayn.

“Pfft. Trouble. He’s the one who had sex on the first date. Not even with his date!” Harry remarks in annoyance, letting out a half-hearted ‘pffft’.

“I think he meant, don’t burst in on any fitting rooms or infuriate any designers.” Louis shrugs, pushing open the stage door curiously and peeking into the wings. “Ooh, a feather boa! C’mere Harry. It’s time for your close up.”

Harry doesn’t know how it happens. Louis is a terrible, terrible influence on him. But somehow he ends up prancing down the empty catwalk wearing a feather boa tied around his head and a sparkling bra over his Ramones t-shirt, singing ‘I Dreamed A Dream’ from Les Miserables, and that was definitely not the way he envisioned running into his ex fiancé.

However, visions are not always accurate, and Cara chose that exact moment to walk into the room.

“But there are dreams that cannot be! And there are storms we cannot weather!” Louis crows, swooping in and lifting Harry. Noticing how rigid he’s suddenly become, Louis puts him back down, smoothing his ruffled boa. “You okay mate?”

“Harry,” Cara calls cheerily, leaning on the door. “How are you?”

“Fuck. Is that your... is that Cara?” Louis breathes.

“Uh-uh.” Harry replies quietly, and then loudly. “Cara! Darling! How are you?”

“Really good, thank you. Err, Rita’s here.” Cara admits, and Rita enters then, looking sheepish. She doesn’t recognise Louis, who is hovering behind Harry, one arm still around his waist as though holding on to him would protect him from the awkwardness of this situation.

“Hiya Harry. Nice tits.” Rita smiles with too much teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“You with Zayn? Who’s this? Hi, I’m Cara,” Cara says, approaching the end of the catwalk and hopping up gracefully in her heels, click-clacking over to meet them, towering over them both. Louis already hates her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself.

“Hi, I’m a friend of Harry’s,”

“Well, any friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine, right?” Cara smiles.

“Evidently.” Louis mutters, low enough for only Harry to hear.

“Well, I better get into makeup. You coming, babe?” Rita hops up onto the catwalk a smidge less gracefully, waggles her fingers at Harry and follows Cara behind a curtain, already scolding her before they’re out of earshot for being “rude to poor old Harry… who’s clearly regressed to an effeminate state to deal with losing you”.

“Shit. You okay, Harry?” Louis asks, placing both of his hands on Harry’s hips. Harry lunges away from the touch, struggling to undo the bra that was so hilarious minutes earlier.

“Yeah, I just… did she look weird to you? Spaced out? Do you think she’s taking something?” Harry asks Louis, eyes wide with an unspoken emotion. “She looked thin.”

“She’s a model, Harry, they’re all thin.”

“I dunno, I think she’s on something. I hope she’s okay,”

“You’d have to be on something to go around with eyebrows like that, surely.” Louis reaches out and undoes the bra clasp Harry’s struggling with, then sets to work untying the feather boa knot around his head. “Then again, you didn’t look so great either. Sorry. Are we joking about this yet?”

“I think we better find Zayn.” Harry decides, returning the bra to where he found it and discarding the boa on the floor, feathers moulting behind him.

Harry spends the next 20 minutes and the entire fashion show bitterly glaring at the way Liam and Zayn and Cara and Rita looked at each other from onstage. The second it finishes, he’s out of the room like a shot and Louis follows meekly, muttering apologies to Liam, a “his ex fiance was in the show.”

* * *

Louis finally catches up to Harry outside, where the crush of people has died down, the quiet Kensington street a stark contrast to the insanity inside.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s wrong, it’s wrong, everything’s wrong! I look like a complete wanker, again!” Harry groans, sinking down onto the nearest wall.

“That’s not true,” Louis says, settling next to him and bumping his hip fondly.

“Do you ever stop being cheerful and sunny-side-up? Can’t you just let me wallow? Don’t you ever feel this way?”

“What? Why is this turning into something about me?”

“You tell me! You’re acting like you don’t give a shit that Eleanor left but her stuff is still in your bathroom and you still have a picture of you two together on the mantelpiece in your flat! Yet you don’t ever seem sad about it. You’re not upset but you’re not moving on. If you were you’d be –“

“Sleeping around like you?” Louis says before he can stop himself.

“At least I’m trying to move on.”

“Yeah well clearly, you haven’t.” Louis snaps. They both stare at each other, suddenly on their feet, breathing heavily.

“Are we done now?” Harry asks quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Louis replies, reaching for Harry instinctively.

“Me too.”

They hug for a moment too long and head to the pub, hoping that whatever Cara and Rita are planning for the evening doesn’t involve Happy Hour at the Stag.


	5. "We were friends for a long time." Part 2

A few months pass and Louis, shockingly, goes on more dates with Sam the Intern and Harry starts spending a lot of time with Nick Grimshaw. Zayn and Liam decide to move in together and Harry mopes around his empty flat for a while before taking it upon himself to throw the mother of all housewarming parties for Liam and Zayn, who are so loved up that they wouldn’t notice if Harry drove a steamroller into the window of their new apartment, much less care if Harry comes through the elevator doors one morning with reams of bunting and a trolley from god knows where stocked with alcohol and assorted nibbles.

“Morning lads. Plans for this evening?” Harry asks, making a box shape with his hands and lining up the kitchen in his eyeline, shaking his head and tutting before delving into his trolley.

“None.” Liam says warily, adjusting his tie in the mirror that hangs above the fireplace.

“Excellent. This flat is rather chilly, don’t you think? Needs to be warmed. A small gathering? Just 5, 6 or 20 of our closest friends.” Harry says

“Haz.” Zayn warns from his reclining position on the sofa, cucumber slices placed over his eyes.

“C’mon, it’s Friday! Party time.”

“Work time.” Liam says, leaning over to give Zayn a quick peck on the lips, picking up his iPad and giving Harry a fond biff on the shoulder on his way out of the door. “Alright, Trouble, just don’t let anyone burn the place down tonight. And get that filthy trolley off my carpet. The rug is imported.” Harry pushes it onto the tiled kitchen area gleefully and flings himself across the spotless countertop, leaning on one elbow and smiling at Zayn’s prostrate form.

“Stop smiling at me.” Zayn grumbles, flipping onto his front and throwing an arm across his face in exasperation. “Dunno how you’ve got my boyfriend wrapped around your finger. Maybe I should’ve let him go for you after all.”

“Shut up, darling, it’s gonna be wonderful.”

“You just want to make out with Nick in a new and exciting location.”

“We do not make out. We occasionally… fall on each others genitals in darkened rooms. Speaking of which, what does this door lead to?” Harry says, peering into the linen closet. “Oh… boring. No secret sex rooms?”

“Harry, please,” Zayn groans, tossing a pillow. “Come back later and sort it. It’s 8am.”

“Gotta go to meet Nick! I’m in the Live Lounge today, remember? Nick wants me to come on his show beforehand, and I thought I’d stop by.”

“Good. Piss off, I need to look sufficiently energized for the advert I’m shooting today.”

“What glamorous lives we lead.”

 

***

Harry’s second nature is to call Louis the second after anything major happens in his life. (It’s not weird that he’s not calling Nick, it’s just not. Nick was there therefore he does not need to be called.)

“AAAAHHHH!” comes the reply as Harry’s heading out of Maida Vale studios into the cold London air.

“Did you hear me just now?”

“AAAAAAAAH!” Louis yells. “YOU WERE ON RADIO 1! PROPER FAMOUS! The whole office is listening, I can tell they’re really jealous.”

“Did I sound weird? Creepy? Did I hit on Fearne? Nick thinks I hit on Fearne.”

“No, you were perfect.” Louis says, but his voice is quieter now, more composed. Harry pushes the thought that the change in mood is directly linked to his mentioning of Nick to the back of his mind. Louis perks up again, adding: “that cover of Rita Ora was fucking hilarious as well – what? No I’m doing an interview! Sorry Harry,” Harry can hear Louis’ protesting, something about “exclusives” and “he’s on bloody Radio 1, this so counts as work” followed by a “FINE, don’t come crying to me next time you want to meet Haim,” and then Louis’s voice is clearer again. “Haz, I gotta go. E-mail me something professional sounding, yeah?”

“Wait, wait! Party! Tonight. Liam’s house.”

“He said, yeah. Could I bring Sam?”

“Sam the Intern?” Even though Sam’s becoming a permanent fixture in Louis’s life, he’s still referred to as ‘Sam the Intern’ and Harry’s still yet to meet him.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah of course. It’ll be great,” Harry says brightly. “Bye Lou!” He hangs up, feeling suddenly lost. Blaming it on the need to buy more spring rolls, he hails a taxi, smirking to himself when he realises Fearne Cotton is still talking about him on the radio.

* * *

By 9:30pm the party is in full swing, nothing has been broken yet and there’s a very clear Liam’s friends from the paper/Zayn’s friends from the industry divide. Louis hovers in the middle of the room, chatting to Sam intensely, one hand buttoning and unbuttoning the front of Sam’s blazer. Harry watches him over the counter where he’s mixing margaritas, watching how his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he laughs and leans closer to him.

“Don’t you think Sam-the-intern is a bit old for Louis?” Harry asks Zayn conversationally, who is watching Harry pour tequila through narrowed eyes as he sips on a glass of water.

“Not really. They seem a good match,” Zayn says genuinely.

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t quite ring true. He’s very posh.”

“Nick’s great.” Zayn says quickly, changing the subject, nodding to where Nick is scrolling through Harry’s iPod playlist and looking exasperated.

“Yeah…” Harry says absently. “Better take him a margarita.”

Zayn tuts and waves Liam over.

“He’s at it again.”

“When are they gonna work it out? Today at lunch all Louis would talk about was how much he hated Nick’s radio show and I had to listen to his rant on some ‘Showbot’ for twenty minutes while I tried to eat my tuna salad.”

“Idiot boys.”

“So glad we don’t have to date around anymore. Never leave me?” Liam asks, kissing Zayn.

“Never.” He says fondly.

The party breaks up around 2am and Harry’s surprised that Louis has stuck around to help clean up. Nick’s gone home and Sam’s nowhere to be seen and Harry can’t resist commenting on it.

“Didn’t you go home with Sam?” He asks casually, grabbing cups at random, and tossing them into a rubbish bag, letting out a horrified wail whenever there’s liquid still in them.

“Nah.” Louis says. “Where’s Grimshaw?”

“Gone home. Tired. He had to be up at 5am this morning, remember? Breakfast show? Must live for weekends.”

“Yeah.” Louis makes a noncommittal grunt and sweeps a whole cascade of bottles into the recycling bin. “That’ll do, don’t you think?”

“Ha. Yeah. Not like it was my idea.” Harry says, offering his arm to Louis. “Let us go then, you and I, while the evening is spread out against the sky!”

“Oh no, you’re at the poetic drunk stage.” Louis stage-groans, but takes Harry’s arm anyway, calling a “goodnight” to Zayn and Liam, who checked out of the clean up process a while ago in favour of whatever it is couples do when they live together, alone, in the greatest city in the world. They stumble into the lift and it goes down one floor before the doors slide open and Louis nearly vomits the seven beers he’s consumed onto the patterned carpet when he sees Eleanor standing there, a basket of laundry under one arm.

“Louis?” She says, looking genuinely happy to see him. “Crap, _Harry Styles_? What the hell has happened since I left?” Eleanor asks, laughing and tucking a strand of hair up into a bun.

“You… you… you’re back.” Louis manages to stammer, and then the lift doors start to slide closed and Harry presses the button and they’re staring at each other again.

“Well, come round for a cuppa? I think we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Eleanor’s already swished around on the heel of her bunny slipper and retreated back up the corridor, leaving Harry and Louis no option other than to follow her, exchanging frantic shrugs and rude gestures. She opens the door into the apartment, and it’s definitely not her taste at all, all cosy rugs and colour and organised _mess_ everywhere when Louis knows for a fact she loves monochrome and minimalism.

“You live here?”

“Actually, it’s my fiance’s flat. We’re just staying here while we look for a bigger place.” Eleanor admits, setting to making three cups of tea, swaying as the kettle boils. “If you don’t mind me asking, how the fuck did you two end up friends? You didn’t exactly see eye to eye, if I remember correctly?”

“Um. You know. Good to have contacts in the industry. Plus, Harry’s friend lives with Liam now.”

“Oh, really?” Eleanor says, sounding genuinely pleased.

“They actually live the floor above you.”

Eleanor gasps. “Small world!” she exclaims.

“And yet, I never run into Beyonce.” Louis mutters in an aside to Harry, who retorts “you stole that from Friends,” silencing Louis as Eleanor passes them two mismatched mugs filled with steaming tea.

“When did you get back?” Harry asks politely, sipping at his drink and making an appreciative sound, elbowing Louis until he does the same.

“A few months ago, actually. I was gonna call…” she says apologetically to Louis. “It’s just… weird.”

“Yeah. You’re telling me.”

“How are things with you? Still at the paper?” Louis nods. “And Harry, I’ve been seeing you in all sorts of magazines. Amazing. Always tell people I knew you when you were doing Barry Manilow covers on a cruise ship to an audience of a dozen geriatrics and a few preteen girls who fancied the pants off of you.”

“Barry Manilow?” Louis splutters.

“And Rod Stewart. Rod Stewart is cool.”

“Harry. No.”

“Well, I’m glad you two found friendship in the end.” Eleanor says, observing the dynamic between them with a tight lipped smile before glancing mock-casually at the clock.

“Yeah. El, it’s been great to see you, but it’s so late. We should get going. Could I possibly use your loo?” Louis asks.

“I’ll get outside and call a cab,” Harry gabbles, nearly tripping over his feet in his eagerness to get out of the flat. Eleanor points to the bathroom and Louis goes in, washing his hands and splashing his face with water before looking around the small room, the kitsch decoration. He picks up an ornate goose and turns it over in his fingers a couple of times before pocketing it and speeding out of there, giving Eleanor an insincere goodbye hug and telling her “see you soon” while hoping he never has to see her again. The minute he’s outside in the fresh air, he wants to keel over. Harry’s at his side instantly, hands on his shoulders.

“She’s getting married.” Louis says, grabbing at Harry’s arms. “How did you ever deal with this?” He says, eyes desperate. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he wheezes.

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” Harry says, backing Louis onto the nearest wall and urging him to sit down. “Lou, what’s this about?”

“I’m gonna die alone!” Louis wails. “With tons of cats and possibly a goose but no girlfriend and no boyfriend and you’ll be off with some twat with a quiff and I’ll have nobody!” Louis wails, a small tear slipping down his face, expression contorting when he realises Harry’s struggling not to laugh. “Are you laughing at me?” Louis whines, hitting feebly at Harry’s kneecap.

“I really fucking love you, Louis.” Harry says honestly, leaning down to kiss Louis on the corner of the mouth briefly, pulling him onto his feet. “Cab’s here.” He half-carries Louis back to his flat and deposits him on the end of the bed, making a move to go sleep on the sofa when Louis’s hands tangling in his shirt hold him back.

“Tell me I’m not gonna die alone,” Louis urges desperately.

“C’mon, Louis, this isn’t you!” Harry says gently, lacing his fingers with Louis’s. “You’re stronger than this.” He tells him sternly, kissing his knuckles. Louis stares at him for what feels like an eternity before leaning forward and kissing him fully, lips connecting but not moving, faces frozen smushed together. Harry moves first, hands coming up to cup Louis’s face before sliding down his chest and pushing him horizontal. Louis makes a deep throaty noise and wraps his legs around Harry’s and pulls his top off.

“Hey, hey, hold on, are we really gonna do this?” Harry asks, catching Louis’s chin in his hands and staring into his hungry eyes. Louis kisses him in lieu of response and crawls on top of him, elbows either side of his head.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, okay.” Harry says, grinding his hips into Louis and licking into his mouth greedily. “If you’re sure,”

“Harry, you’re killing the mood.” Louis grumbles. “Let me make you feel good.”

He wriggles out of his jeans and the tiny crunching sound he hears when they hit the floor must be the goose he stole from Eleanor’s flat but for the first time since he met her, he can’t bring her face to the forefront of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well didn't that take a long time! I'm sorry for the wait, I literally have no excuse. Well, two more chaptery bits to go I think! I have one request: if you like this and you bookmark this, why not go watch the original movie? It's so good and so inspiring and man, I love it so much. Okay. Leaving now. Thank you so much for the love and for waiting for me to update and just generally, so much love for everyone on this site. xx


	6. "And then we weren't friends."

When Louis wakes up, he’s hit with the overwhelming awareness of Harry’s absence beside him. Sitting up with his sheets pooling around him, he looks around his room, seeing with relief Harry’s boots are still by the door, hearing the shower shut off in the other room. He sighs, relieved, flops back down and allows himself the tiniest of smiles. Maybe it’s going to be okay. He traces the bruises on his neck, liking how they hurt, like it really happened.

Then Harry walks in fully clothed and starts toeing on his boots in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face, wet hair dangling around his face in tendrils, last night’s shirt slightly damp.

“Morning…” He says, his voice thick with something Louis doesn’t want to think about. Something like guilt.

“Leaving?” Louis asks, furious his voice is coming out so small and feeble.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta… today, recording…”

“You don’t have to lie to me like you lie to the other ones.” Louis says, doing his best to sound light hearted. He remembers one day they were talking about it over breakfast. The lie Harry had told just minutes ago to escape the dreaded “cuddling”.

“I’m not lying! I just… booking it was expensive, yeah? Tell you what. We’ll get dinner tonight. Talk about things. I’ll text you.” Harry, finally managing to squeeze his feet into his footwear, treks across the room and gives Louis a kiss on the forehead. Louis can feel that his jaw clenches. The second he’s out the door, he pounces on his phone and dials Liam shakily, reaching for his t-shirt, finding his jeans strewn across the floor.

“Liam. Liam. Wake up. I’ve made a huge mistake.” Louis’s voice comes down the line clear as day. Liam, looking at Zayn sleeping next to him, makes a move to get out of bed and go into the bathroom, when Zayn’s phone starts to ring and Zayn groans, grabbing his phone and seeing it’s Harry. He answers it, oblivious to Liam on the line to Louis.

“Hey.” Zayn says.

“I slept with Louis.”

“What?!” Zayn demands, as Louis tells Liam the same thing. Liam and Zayn exchange a glance, doing an inappropriate mime to clarify who they’re talking to.

“That’s brilliant, Louis! We knew you had it in you!” Liam says encouragingly, giving Zayn a thumbs up.

“No, this is a disaster. He just walked out!” Louis wails down the line, Zayn overhearing.

“You walked out?” Zayn repeats to Harry.

“I couldn’t stay there! He might have wanted to talk about things. Love things, Zayn.”

“What would be so wrong about that?”

“I don’t… it’s Louis, Zayn. _My_ Louis.”

“Exactly.”

Harry lets out a whine of horror as he hails a bus, fumbling in the pocket of his jeans for his oyster card.

“Come round?” Zayn offers, at the same time Liam does the same to Louis. They exchange a look of horror and start to backtrack, relieved when both friends turn down the offer.

“Are you gonna be okay? Cos, we, er, we’ve got some news too.” Liam says down the phone quietly, turning round the shiny new engagement ring on his finger.

“Sure, yeah, it was nothing.” Louis says, heart isnking as he hangs up without saying goodbye.

Harry doesn’t make it to dinner that night. Louis gets a text around 7pm flooded with seventeen different excuses, none of which sound anything like words Harry had ever used before. He threw his phone into the drawer beside his bed, pulled off the jumper he’d picked out to wear and tossed it into the corner of the room, trudging to his shower to have a silent sob and let out a scream.

Harry turns up on his doorstep at 10pm, eyes wild, hair tousled and without a coat on. Louis leans on the door frame in lieu of letting him in, arms folded.

“I just wanted to check everything was okay after last night?” Harry says awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the corridor.

“Yeah.” They stare at each other for a few seconds. “Huge mistake, right?” Louis adds eventually.

“Oh my god, right? So weird. I didn’t want to…” Harry trails off, eyes searching Louis’s face.

“No, no, it was a massive fuck up. Let’s never drink again.” Louis says with a light laugh at a pitch level only dogs could pick up.

“Never ever. I was off my face.”

“Haha.”

They stare at each other for a while longer, Harry’s eyes on the bruises on Louis’s neck, Louis’s eyes on his doormat.

“So, I… I was just on my way to,”

“That’s fine.” Louis says, at the same time Harry blurts out “Nick’s.” Harry doesn’t finish his explanation, just turns and goes, dragging his feet. Louis doesn’t watch him go.

Harry doesn’t call Louis the next day, and by 4pm Louis stops expecting him to. By 5pm he’s vowed never to speak to that boy again and by 6pm he’s found out that oh, his best friend is engaged, and oh, he’s engaged to Harry’s best friend, and oh, they’re going to share the role of best man, isn’t that great?

Louis decides that separate bachelor parties are the way to go. And separate cake tastings and venue viewings. And whenever Liam mentions it or tries to have a “lads chat” about it, Louis just says “huge mistake. Over it.”

He hears that Harry’s seeing Nick officially. He hears this in the back pages of his own fucking newspaper and he’s pissed off about it and he finds himself taking Sam-the-intern to the wedding. They sit on opposite sides of the room to Harry and Nick, who have matching ties and pocket handkerchiefs and Louis manages to keep away from Harry for as long as possible, until he’s pushed up onto his feet to make a speech and his eyes hit Harry’s and _woah_ , maybe he’s had too much to drink but his notes are fluttering onto the ground and Harry is rushing forward and grabbing them and passing them back to him. Louis glares at him and resumes his speech, says how much he loves Liam, how glad his best friend has found someone who can actually dress himself in the morning, says how beautiful the ceremony was, gulps, apologises, and runs out of the room.

Zayn gives Harry A Look and Harry gulps, looking from Zayn to the door that’s slamming closed and back again. Steeling himself, he jumps to his feet and runs after Louis, seeing him disappear into the cloakroom.

“Lou,” he calls, his voice cracking. “Lou, would you fucking look at me?”

Louis is busying himself rooting through the coats hung up on the rail, looking desperately through the masses of wool and tweed to find his own.

“Louuuuu. Lou, come on.” Harry says. “You can’t avoid me forever. Our best friends are married now.”

“Oh, I can’t? What about you?”

“What _about_ me?” Harry asks, getting angry now. “Fucking look at me. What the fuck happened with us?”

“You know what happened.” Louis says quietly. He’s found his coat now but he doesn’t want to turn around so he’s still leafing through methodically, hangers clacking against each other to break the silence.

“Yeah, but I thought we could get past it. It was just…”

“A mistake, right? A big, fat, huge, fucking, mistake.”

“You said it first.”

“Like you weren’t thinking it?”

“I came to tell you – oh, fuck it. Yeah. It was a massive mistake, happy now? I regret it every fucking day! You were my best friend and now you won’t even look at me.” Harry shouts, reaching out and grabbing Louis’s coat from the rail (he recognised it, of course he recognised it) and throwing it in his direction before storming out of the room. Louis catches it feebly, turning his face at last, but Harry’s already gone.

He plods back to the party, vowing to grab Sam-the-intern and get the hell out of there, but then Liam’s mum is grabbing his arm with tears in her eyes and saying “wedding party photos” and no words have ever instilled such deep-set fear in any man. He ends up standing beside Liam, with Harry far away on the other side of Zayn, and they force smiles and try not to touch each other. Someone’s clinking a glass and calling “Speech! Speech! Speech!” and Louis knows he’s off the hook so Liam goes behind the DJ booth (where Nick is, of course, harassing the DJ) and grabs a microphone.

“Hello! I, errrr, want to thank you all for coming, it’s been, the best day! I just wanted to say some special thank yous, to my family and my husband’s – oh it feels good to say that, to my husband’s family, to Sophia for organising this, to the caterers for that awesome cake, but mostly, thanks to our best men. Louis, Harry. If either of us had found either of you remotely attractive, none of this could ever have happened!”

The room erupts in laughter and someone’s uncle knocks Harry into Louis with a good-natured belly laugh. Harry puts his hands out to steady himself and Louis catches his arms. They stand there like that for a few seconds before Louis pulls away and goes across the room, plonking himself into Sam’s lap.

Harry runs over to Nick and grabs his sleeve.

“We’re going,” he says in his ear.

“I don’t want to.” Nick says, brushing Harry aside and turning back to the disgruntled looking DJ. “Why don’t you have any Katy B on your playlist? You might as well plug in your iPod and go to town, why don’t we have some ABBA next, you cliché-touting twat!”

“Nick,” Harry whines. “Please, can we just go?”

“Not now honey, Grimmy busy.”

Sighing, Harry leaves on his own. Louis watches him go out of the corner of his eye and vows never, ever to let another kind word about Nick Grimshaw’s radio show appear in his articles ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took a bloody long time didn't it? I'm so sorry about the lack of updates, life got in the way! Hopefully will update this quicker next time, sorry about making you wait (this is the last time I ever decide to juggle 3 fics at once) and thank you for sticking around / reading / joining us now! xxxx


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